It was the middle of third grade and I was not sure what had got into me. I lied about many things—I lied that I had eaten all my dinner，when in fact I buried it in the trash can. I lied that I had made my bed，when clearly I had not. My lies were not hurting anyone，but for some reason I felt the need to tell lies on an impulse (冲动) that didn’t feel like my own. I was labeled a liar.
One day my sisters and I were invited to spend the weekend with my aunt. We all loved it. She spoiled us with her time. And she was an amazing artist. She had cool pencils, erasers and other supplies that any young girl would love to get her hands on. Then it happened...someone took one of Aunt Kim’s good art erasers and rubbed it across the entire top of the TV. The eraser ruined the shiny finish on the TV’s casing. All the three of us were called into the TV room and asked to admit. Nobody did！Aunt Kim told us how disappointed she was.